Sandman by J. Robert Janes

cops. The poor, the wealthy … all held the same antipathy, even children. But was it the fob of an ear-ring she had found? Had it belonged to the Notre-Dame victim, and had Madame Vernet yet to realize exactly where the rubbish in his pockets had come from?
    She must have realized it by now, for both hands were deep in those pockets. ‘Had she any other friends?’ he asked cautiously.
    â€˜Friends?’ she shrilled. ‘Only Andrée from school. Inseparable, those two, and both picking their noses at the same time at the dinner table! I caught them. The … the poor child’s mother is a disaster. Very wealthy, very pampered. The parents left her at the convent school for the holiday but … but at last reluctantly requested to see her. She took the train to Chamonix three days ago. Antoine had to help the child obtain a laissez-passer . Nénette was devastated when she discovered what he’d done, and cried for hours. “ Right when we were so close to trapping the Sandman! ” she said. She hated Antoine for doing it. Hated him who has done so much for her.’
    The detective made no comment. He simply drew on that pipe of his, and when the bowl touched her left foot, she felt the warmth of it seep slowly into her.
    â€˜The laissez-passer , madame?’ he asked quietly, and she knew then that she had best be careful with him, that too much said in a moment of grief could so easily be misunderstood.
    â€˜Antoine meets regularly with the Kommandant von Gross-Paris, who is a frequent dinner guest. A call to General von Schaumburg was all that it took. Andrée got her pass and … and went off to see her parents.’
    â€˜So it was only Mademoiselle Chambert who accompanied your niece to the Notre-Dame?’
    â€˜Yes. Yes, of course. Why do you ask?’
    Had there been alarm in her voice? he wondered. ‘Ah, no reason but clarity, madame. Things are always hazy. One always has to brush the snow or the cobwebs away. I take it they went on from there to the Jardin d’Acclimatation?’
    â€˜Yes, to tea in the children’s restaurant. Tea! ’
    He waited. She said, ‘Forgive me. Nénette had forced herself into liking tea because it … it reminded her of her mother, not that the tea they serve in such places in any way resembles the real thing!’
    The tears were interrupted. Having finished its nocturnal wanderings, the poodle, on seeing them, rejoiced. It tore across the fish-pond, slipped, went down hard, crashed into the edge, yelped, yapped and threw its dark shape at madame, who gathered it in and said ‘ Darling! ’ only to drop the creature in horror and kick at it. ‘ Get away from me, you filthy little beast! ’
    The dog’s head was quizzically cocked to one side. The ears flopped. Pompon thought it a new game and dashed away, only to race back in and up again.
    â€˜We’d best go in,’ she said, suffering the licking, the cold wet nose. ‘You can see how lonely he is, how he is missing her. He’ll have to be put down now. Maybe we can bury him with her—are such things possible?’
    He really didn’t know if under-the-coffin money would help, but reached far back into himself for a suitable answer, and said at last, ‘Perhaps … but then … ah mais alors, alors , with murders, madame, the authorities can be so very difficult.’
    One look at Antoine Vernet was enough to tell them they were dealing with fire. Tall and trim, he stood before them in the entrance hall with arms lightly folded across his chest, and the look he gave was not cold or angry at the flagrant intrusion upon his privacy but merely so calm he could just as well have been cutting throats at a board meeting.
    The dark grey suit was immaculate. The black leather shoes, pale blue dress shirt and dark blue silk tie allowed nothing in excess. Even the gold signet ring on the little finger of the left